Chapter 92: The dim lights and rainy night talk about old dreams, the ink marks on the paper hide the sound of the heart
Dusk, like a water-soaked blue cloth, slowly enveloped the eaves and corners of the Fang residence. The sweet aroma of lotus seed soup wafted from the kitchen, mingling with the warm glow of lanterns in the corridor, illuminating the west wing with a warm atmosphere. Ziwei was carefully spreading the lotus painting on the pear blossom table. A gilded bronze lamp, specially brought in by Madam Fang, hung overhead, its wick burning brightly, illuminating the ink marks on the painting with crystal clarity.
Xiaoyanzi slumped over the table, her chin resting on her folded arms, her goose-yellow cuffs brushing against the rice paper on the tabletop. "Your mother's paintings are truly beautiful," she said, her fingertips gently tapping the veins of the lotus leaves. "Much prettier than my teacher's rigid lotus paintings. They have a spirit." She suddenly sat up straight, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, right! I had the maid find a camphorwood box. It's moisture-proof and insect-proof, perfect for storing these treasures."
Ziwei's fingertips traced the writing on the back of the painting. The ink had faded a bit, but the gentleness of the brushstrokes still lingered. "Mother wrote 'Thinking of you like a lotus,' she must have missed that person very much," she said softly, as if afraid to disturb the writing on the paper. "Shopkeeper Zhou said Mother used to wait for letters in the bookshop all afternoon. So... so she was waiting for this."
Jinsuo brought in a bowl of freshly warmed lotus seed soup. Steam rose from the celadon bowl, and the sweet aroma instantly filled the air. "Young lady, drink it while it's hot! Madam Fang said it's a Jiangnan recipe, with rock sugar and osmanthus flowers, and it's heart-warming." She placed the bowl on the table and carefully wiped the edges of the scroll. "You must keep this painting carefully. It will be the best proof when you find that master someday."
When Xiao Jian stepped through the curtains, his body still damp from the night dew. He had just returned from Liu Qing and Liu Hong's visit, and the cuffs of his slate-gray gown were stained with mud. "It's windy outside," he said, closing the window to block out the patter of rain. "Captain Zheng said E Min's men are hanging around Liulichang. Don't go to Mo Yun Zhai anymore. I'll have Shopkeeper Zhou pass on a message if you have any."
Xiaoyanzi scooped a spoonful of lotus seed soup into her mouth and said incoherently, "That E Min is the worst. He always opposed us in the previous life, and he must have no good intentions in this life." As soon as she said this, she covered her mouth in annoyance, secretly glanced at Ziwei from the corner of her eyes, and saw that she was looking at the painting intently, then she breathed a sigh of relief.
Xiao Jian calmly took over the conversation, "Things in the martial arts world are complicated. Lord E has made many enemies in the court. We should not get dragged into it." He looked at Ziwei with a gentle gaze. "Shopkeeper Zhou also said that there was a 'Young Master Huang' who often visited the bookstore. He always brought a copy of 'Shu Yu Ci'. Miss Xia's eyes would light up when she saw him."
"Young Master Huang?" Ziwei looked up, a flicker of doubt in her eyes. "Mother didn't mention him in her letter... Could he be a pseudonym?" She suddenly remembered the inscription on the painting. "It says 'Midsummer of the thirteenth year of the Qianlong reign.' Young Master Huang of that year..."
"Stop guessing," Xiaoyanzi interrupted her quickly, pushing the camphorwood box in front of her. "There's no rush to put the things away first. Let's take it one step at a time. Look how beautiful this box is, with the lotus pattern on it. It matches your mother's painting perfectly."
The box was made of rosewood, its corners carved with entwined lotus patterns. Madam Fang had it specially made at a woodworking shop. Ziwei carefully rolled up the scroll and placed it inside the box. She then placed the half jade pendant and a few pages of the incomplete poem, her movements as gentle as if she were placing rare treasures. "When I find evidence, I'll ask him in person why he made my mother wait so long," she whispered, her eyes slightly red.
Outside the window, the rain grew heavier, rustling against the banana leaves. The lanterns on the eaves swayed gently in the wind, casting flickering shadows on the wall. Little Swallow looked at Ziwei's focused profile, and something tugged at her heart. The image of Ziwei kneeling in the rain outside the palace gates in her past life overlapped with her gentle face under the lamplight, making her nose tingle.
"We will find it." Xiaoyanzi held Ziwei's hand, her palm warm. "My brother knows a lot of friends in the underworld who can help inquire; Liu Qing and Liu Hong have extensive connections in the capital and can always find clues. Besides...besides, I'm here, I will definitely help you." She thought of Qianlong's guilty eyes, and secretly made up her mind to find an opportunity to remind him.
Xiao Jian looked at the rain outside the window, his brows furrowed slightly. "I asked Liu Qing to check the list of officials from the 13th year of Emperor Qianlong's reign to see if there are any officials surnamed Huang from Jinan. However, matters in the palace are sensitive, so we have to be careful not to alert the enemy." He paused and looked at Ziwei. "Some things can't be rushed. Safety is the most important thing."
Ziwei nodded, carefully placed the camphorwood box in the secret compartment of her dressing table, and locked it again. "I know, Brother Xiao Jian." She turned to look at Xiaoyanzi, a faint smile on her face, the confusion in her eyes replaced by determination. "I'm already very grateful to have found Manager Zhou and this painting. Ci'er, meeting you is truly a blessing."
Xiaoyanzi felt a little embarrassed when she was looked at by her. She scratched her head and turned to reach the lotus seed soup on the table: "Drink yours quickly, it won't taste good if it gets cold." She turned her back to Ziwei, but couldn't help but raise the corners of her mouth - in this life, Ziwei no longer had to kneel in the rain at the palace gate, and no longer had to suffer from Rong Mama's needles. With her around, Ziwei's journey to find her relatives would surely go smoothly.
The night rain drummed against the window lattice, whispering an unfinished story. A lotus painting lay quietly in a camphorwood box, carrying a decade's worth of longing. The lotus seed soup on the table steamed, its sweet aroma brimming with a new warmth. Ziwei gazed at the flickering lights outside the window, her heart no longer filled with the trepidation of arriving in the capital, but with a slowly rising hope. She knew the road ahead might still be stormy, but the warmth around her would carry her through each step.
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